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"5150" One Who Flew Into The Cuckoos Nest Pages 56-60 By Kathi Stringer The Need to See Blood MARCH 26, 1998 It was late in the evening and I was becoming more distressed over certain events in my life. I had ambivalent notions about ending it all. It seemed when I got like this I began cutting on my wrists trying to figure out if I should cut deep and end my misery or perhaps the pain would block me from a serious attempt. Whatever the course, I continued to want to see blood. Somehow blood represented my emotional pain and letting go of the blood was letting go of the pain. I was confused. I didn’t have a clue on how to stop myself from this automatic course of self-destruction. It was like getting used to the cold water of a swimming pool one step at a time, I would do the same when cutting myself, slowly, one stroke at a time and getting more serious as the blood flowed. When I got like this, Cristina my friend could usually see it coming and would try to head me off at the pass by calling the police. When the police arrived I already had cuts on my wrists – it had begun. I wanted to continue but now the cops were here and that frustrated my plans. Now I had to try and “cheer up” because the cops were involved and looking depressed would certainly mean bad news, perhaps a trip to the hospital. Police: “So Kathi, what’s going on?” Kathi: “Nothing really”, not knowing what else to say in this situation. Police: “Cristina called and said you were hurting yourself. Are you?” Kathi: Silence Cristina: “Look at her wrists.” Police: “You look like you have been crying Kathi. Can I see your wrists please?” Kathi: “I’d rather not if you don’t mind.” Police: “Kathi, I’m afraid I need to see them just to check and see if you are okay.” Kathi: “Okay, I guess.” I turned my wrists over and the marks were evident. Police: “Kathi, it looks like you have fresh marks on your skin. I’m going to have to give you a choice and you can choose either way. I’m going to have to take you to the hospital for evaluation for your safety. You can go voluntary or involuntary, its up to you. It would look better for you if you came voluntary.” Kathi: “It doesn’t look like I really have a choice either way. So are you telling me that if I don’t want to go, you are going to take me anyway?” Police: “Yes, that’s right. But it would appear better for you if you went voluntary. The record looks better that way; otherwise it will have to be a 5150 (involuntary hospitalization). Again, it’s up to you.” It didn’t look like I had much of a choice. I hated that hospital and I had so many bad memories from past admissions. I reasoned that if I went voluntarily, I could leave sooner, perhaps that same night. It was better then the alternative. Kathi: “Okay, I suppose you are right. I volunteer.” Police: “I think you made the right choice Kathi. Is there anything you want to take with you?” Kathi: “Yes, let me take a look.” I got my baby blanket and nibbles, my plushy bunny. I saw my palm top computer next to my bunny and took that too. Knowing this hospital, if it was like any of the other admits, I might not get out of there for a long time. Police: “Ready?” Kathi: “Yes, I’m ready.” We walked out to the police cruiser and he put me into the back of the car. As he radioed in his ETA to Emergency Treatment Services, I was numb. While he drove I remembered that I usually carried a razor in the bottom of my shoe. I know it sounds strange, thinking it wouldn’t be something a rational person would do, but most times I wasn’t rational when it came to my personal safety. I was confused and opted for having a bloody release when it came down to it. Carrying around past traumatic memories from this same hospital had me angry most times. I wasn’t aware of it then, but I turned this anger inward, to myself. Rather than take it out on them, I was the target. As we neared the hospital, I formulated a plan to get out of there ASAP. We arrived and went in.Security: “Hi Kathi, you’re back.” That almost sounded like a snicker or a gloat. I just looked at him and then my eyes gazed back to the floor. Police: “Kathi is here to volunteer herself in for an evaluation.” Then security suddenly looked at me and then back at the police officer as if he had just grown a second head. Security: “Kathi? Kathi never volunteers herself in. There must be a mistake.” The police officer turned and looked at me to reassure staff that there was indeed no mistake. Police: “Kathi, you are going to volunteer yourself in right?” I nodded. He turned and looked at security again. “See, Kathi is going to come here of her own free will, aren’t you Kathi?” I nodded more sincerely the second time, hoping to convince him. I couldn’t afford to get stuck here as an involuntary patient. Security: “I’m telling you that Kathi won’t do it. Believe me, as soon as you leave she will take off. She won’t stay.” I had begun filling out the forms. I was filling them out extra slowly hoping the police would leave soon. I needed to stall until he left. Police: “Okay Kathi, good luck and I hope you get the help you need. Good night.” Security: “I’m telling you, she won’t stay.” Kathi: “Okay, and thanks. Have a good night.” Security shook his head and went back to his station. He glanced my direction now-and-then. I kept pacing myself filling out the form. I looked out the window as the cruiser sped away down the long street. I watched for his break lights waiting for him to go around the corner. He finally disappeared. I looked around trying to size up the situation, considering whether to leave. If I were going to leave, now would be the time. Once I went through those unit doors, they would lock behind me. And even if I wanted to get out as a voluntary patient, they wouldn’t let me and would change my status to a 5150. I decided to wait a few more moments to put a little more distance between the police and me. It’s strange, when I get cornered in this hospital, I don’t think about my depression, but rather flight. Kathi: “Hmmm you know, I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m changing my mind” Security: “I knew it!” Kathi: “I think I will leave now. Sorry to put you to all this trouble but I must leave. It’s late and I have a long walk ahead of me.” Security picked up the phone. Security: “We have AWOL, Kathi is leaving!”I didn’t stick around so see what was going to happen next because I was sure I wouldn’t like whatever it was. I went through the double glass doors and into the parking lot. I started to run. I was wondering how much time I would have before the police came looking for me. I ran down the street and cut into an ally that was partially roped off by the hospital. Just as I had gotten half way down the ally the police cruiser sped by and I saw his break lights come on. I was busted. Moments later the police darted around the corner after me. I was caught and filled with dread. This wasn’t good. He was certain to be mad at me in the best case. Police: “Kathi get in the car!” He was mad all right. He didn’t say anything else and dove me back to the hospital. Security: “See, I told you she wouldn’t stay.” Police: “Well, she is staying now as a 5150. Lets take her onto the unit now unit where she can’t get away.” That was it, I felt caged and trapped in a place with those who have hurt me in the past. I wanted to die and I wanted to live. Mostly at this point I wanted to vanish. After I walked onto the unit-ETS (Emergency Treatment Services), the security guard used an electronic wand to search for metal. The wand didn’t go off and he waved me through. I went to the bathroom. I felt more depressed than frustrated. I felt stupid for ending up in this place. I sat down on the toilet and took the razor from my shoe. Holding the razor, I made cuts across my wrist. I welcomed the pain to drown out the reality around me. My wrists stung and somehow it had helped to feel the pain. Strange. I cleaned off the blood and left the bathroom. Security approached me and noticed my blood dripping on the floor. Security and staff: “How did you do that?” Kathi: “With a razor.” Staff: “Where is the razor now?” Kathi: “I’d rather not say.” I did not want to give up the razor. I wanted the option of dying if it came down to that and I wanted to keep an element of control. “You know,” I said, I think I’d rather die right now. I wish I could just finish the job.” Then staff did what they call a “take down.” Staff held me down on a bed and took off my clothes. They removed everything but my diaper and put me into restraints. It didn’t seem to me like this was the least restrictive measure. With these guys it almost always came down to brute force and this definitely felt like a punitive measure. I felt shamed when they took away my clothes and I was nearly naked. I was becoming more and more agitated, ashamed and desperate. I wanted to die, to vanish. After staff put me into 5-point restraints they pressured me for the razor. I pretty much felt like telling them to stick it at this point based on their tactics so far. Staff: “Kathi, where is the razor?” Kathi: “I don’t know, it could be anywhere.” Staff was now searching my clothes and the bathroom and they couldn’t find it. Staff: “Kathi, we didn’t find it in your clothes and it’s not in the bathroom. Where is it?” Kathi: “Based on everything you have done so far, why should I tell you? I hate myself, I hate you, and I wish I was dead!” I wanted to disappear. It appeared that staff hated me and was put off. They seemed not to care that I was nearly naked and embarrassed strapped to a bed. Staff: “Will you contract for safety?” Kathi: “I will never contract for safety.” Staff: “For your own safety, we have to keep you in restraints. Yeah, like I could believe that. They didn’t seem to be too convincing, that is about the issue of my safety. It seemed to be an excuse for something that gave them pleasure. I was crying myself into blackness hoping to find a deep void. As the hours past I layed there thinking about the past admits. Staff loathed me because of my regressions. I didn’t trust them and decided not to cooperate because that meant for them to own me. I would not let them own me. I finally fell asleep. Almost 4 hours later…. Staff: “Kathi, do you want to get up?” Kathi “Yes” I was trying to wake up. Staff: “Then tell us where the razor is and we will let you up. Kathi: “It’s in the bathroom hidden under the mirror.” Staff found the razor and let me up. I put some clothes on right away and waited for my next chance to flee the hospital. They weren’t interested in helping me. I wanted to run. I waited. ?ť Copyright Year:
2007 |